


Negotiation

by LadyLuckDoubt



Category: Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Abuse, Canon-Compliant, Electrocution, M/M, Phoenix Wright Kink Meme, Violence, taser
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-16
Updated: 2011-03-16
Packaged: 2017-10-17 00:58:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/171182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLuckDoubt/pseuds/LadyLuckDoubt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phoenix tries to cut a deal with von Karma in 1-4 in order to save his friend's fate from the undefeated and imposing prosecutor.</p><p>SPOILERS for the first game, especially during 1-4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Negotiation

**Author's Note:**

> Someone on the Kink Meme wanted:
> 
>  
> 
> _MANFRED VON KARMA/PHOENIX WRIGHT_
> 
>  
> 
> _Must be in that order and MUST involve the stun gun._
> 
>  
> 
> _XBOX HUEG bonus points if he brings up how much Phoenix reminds him of Gregory Edgeworth. But not as a compliment._
> 
>  
> 
> Edited and tidied a bit. Posted here for PrincessLauren who keeps reminding me that while she's gone _some_ places, I'm still the one who wrote fic incorporating a canonical taser.
> 
> This was one of the first things I wrote for this fandom. I probably should be quite disturbed by that.
> 
>  
> 
> A/N: Thankyou to Tsunoba who came up for a title for this one... it sat around unnamed for ages because nothing seemed to fit. :)

 

It had been a long day, the kind of day that left you drained and exhausted and longing for little more than somewhere comfortable to rest your head for a few hours.

Phoenix Wright felt it, taking one heavy footstep after the next, blearily gazing into the darkening sky, willing himself to stay awake. The trial was taking its toll on him, and his exhaustion made him feel as though he could have been drugged-- it was one losing battle after another with von Karma, and the irritatingly elusive Edgeworth, who seemed almost resigned and indifferent to facing the death penalty-- _why_? The man had spent the last fifteen years throwing himself into becoming what he had, relentlessly perfectionistic and constantly working-- to just throw it away and lose faith in himself so early into his potential career was _frustrating_. Not just frustrating, but a _waste_ , Phoenix felt. It made him several kinds of angry just considering it-- why had the man stopped believing in himself like that?

Since when had he  _cared_  so much about Edgeworth, anyway?

If he wanted to go to prison for the rest of his life-- or wind up on death row-- why stop him? It was a thought he tried to avoid considering; ridiculous as it was, Edgeworth inspired intense feelings in him. If Phoenix wasn't slackjawed with the prosecutor's effortless coolness and skill, or seething at some sly move, or jealous-- of his confidence, his connections-- and his pay cheque-- and sometimes, even, his apparent ability to switch off and just  _win_ \-- he was, at least, curious about the man.

And now that curiosity had become  _concern_. 

It was futile trying to talk himself out of it; like it or not, and frustrated as he was at this roundabout case, and a million puzzle pieces which didn't seem to fit anywhere, shady witnesses who frustratingly appeared silly and flaky enough to be unable to keep a story straight, and an elusive and moody Edgeworth who offered very little to support himself, Phoenix knew he was going to win. He  _had_  to. 

To beat Manfred von Karma, if not anything else. 

  
His arm still ached from where the taser had shocked him earlier that afternoon. And  _that_  was something else he didn't like about this case-- never before had he been so blatantly threatened while working on an investigation. Sure, he'd been warned, and lied to, and casual suggestions or less than vague threats had been made for him to keep his nose out of things which supposedly didn't concern him; but never before had he encountered such a subtle, painful, and underhanded physical assault. It unnerved him that it was von Karma, best of the best, worse than Edgeworth-- who'd dealt him that blow, too.

A man with that much prestige behind him was one who was  _meant_  to be professional. 

But maybe that was what bothered him, too: the fact that it  _was_  professional. Professional... like a contract killer. Cold. Stealthy. Sleek. Unconcerned. Unaffected. 

Undetectable.

  
After the attack, Phoenix's concern had been primarily for Maya, whom he'd brought back to the office, consoled with a few encouraging words, and advised to get some sleep before court tomorrow morning. He'd deliberately downplayed his own reaction to the attack, worried that if Maya smelled fear, she'd crumble, and seeing her fall would cause him to lose all hope and do the same. He'd been grateful when she'd taken that cab and he was alone in his office to figuratively lick his wounds and be alone and try to make heads and tails from this mess otherwise known as the case against Edgeworth. He wanted to win because that was right. He felt a strange protectiveness towards his former nemesis and an endless fascination, too-- Edgeworth's distant coolness didn't strike him as being unaffected-- more like  _too_  affected and deeply troubled... numbed because to feel would be making himself vulnerable. Phoenix didn't like _that_ Edgeworth, he conceded-- he preferred the animated, argumentative, positively  _nasty_ Edgeworth, not this tragic, submissive statue which had taken his place.

There was far too much bothering him about the whole situation, and he silently, abstractly prayed for two things: ease of mind and the whole ordeal to be over quickly. He was drained by the end of the day; too tired to think about winning and about how beautiful the "Not Guilty" verdict was going to sound. 

All Phoenix Wright longed for, at this moment, was sleep.

 

There was a cold nip in the twilight air, almost enough to tempt the young attorney to turn around and head for the air-conditioned comfort of his office instead of his lousy apartment. But home; spartan and depressing as it could be-- still had a coziness about it which his own office couldn't provide, and he'd been working so long and hard on this case that to be in a place _not_ associated with his work would be a  _good_  thing. Staying in the office was inviting him to stay awake, to push himself a little harder, to not switch off, to appear in court tomorrow morning delirious from lack of sleep. He couldn't do that.

His feet ached and his shoulders sagged. The buses should have stopped by now-- if they hadn't and he waited, there was the risk of falling asleep in a bus shelter and then having to make his way to court the following morning afterwards; walking home would just tire him out that bit more, and make sleep all the more deserved and rewarding.

Sometimes, Phoenix cursed his own optimism, particularly when he was stuck in cases like this one, where optimism seemed worse than futile-- damaging and damning and overly confident. Hell, today he'd been electrocuted. He'd been warned off the case since it started, and he had the gumption to cling to optimism to pull him through? One foot followed the other, slow heavy movements, and his shoulders heaved as though he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

  
He didn't at first register that the car was flashing its lights at  _him_. And when he looked at it, it didn't look like a car initially but an apparition-- a car so ostentatious and  _decorative_  that it could have been a hallucination. A modern-day chariot to Slumberland. He ignored the harsh yellow glare of the lights and continued pacing along. When the horn sounded, he looked up again, though, and noted that the car was slowing.

He felt a jolt of panic in his chest when the back door opened and the horn sounded again, but he was half-asleep and defeated.

 _If this is what finishes me off, I suppose there are worse ways to go_ , he thought to himself, stopping, and looking into the car hopefully-- a roadside waif taken in by a kind soul.

 _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

  
He didn't register, until the engine had started again and they were moving along the road in the darkness, the seat around him embracing him with the warmth and comfort of a hug from an old friend, his eyes adjusting to the darkness, _who_ was sitting next to him. The back of the car was spacious, and enough distance remained him between where he was sitting and the other passenger for him to not notice immediately. Until he realised he could smell something familiar-- expensive, hauntingly old-fashioned cologne-- and he felt a large warm hand on his thigh. He had no idea what lay beyond the thick tinted onyx glass separating him from the vision of whomever was driving the vehicle.

Still, it was almost decadent and luxurious to be able to be driven along like this; he only had a vague concern about how he was going to ask the driver to drop him off at his apartment block...

  
And then he heard the low, demonic chuckle of a man who'd described him only days ago as a  _bug_. Insignificant, trodden on without realisation-- that chuckle caused Phoenix to forget the tiredness, the comfort of the seat around him, and his own misery. It woke him up, pulling him into flight mode, causing him to reach for the door handle and pull tightly. Locked. Of course von Karma had locked him in here. 

He said nothing, but the laughter grew louder as Phoenix whispered a curse under his breath. A lousy day had taken a turn for the worse, and here he was, trapped, with the kind of monster who wasn't just arrogant enough to stand on  _bugs,_  unaware of them or unconcerned, but who delighted in slowly pulling them to pieces.

"You're either a very brave man, Wright, or even more stupid than I gave you credit for," von Karma said, still unable to hide the amusement in his voice. He paused, considering, his voice taunting him now, playing with him. "I don't see why you can't be both, actually."

It was a mark of just how drained Phoenix was that he didn't so much as swear under his breath. Instead, he turned slowly to face von Karma, resolving to face his nemesis head on, and ask at least one question.

" _Why_?" He was aware of the hand, still rested on his leg, not moving, not forceful, but all the same possessive and irritating. But he didn't want to give von Karma the pleasure of knowing how much it made him squirm. 

"Because I need to speak with you," von Karma said carefully, the deep gravelly voice quiet and smooth. "Both of us know what the outcome of this trial is going to be, and, whether you choose to see it or not, Wright, I _am_ a fair man." 

 _That's an interesting interpretation of the word,_  Phoenix thought to himself, but he refused to allow his face to show any disagreement, disgust or fear.

"I am going to win, Wright." 

Phoenix said nothing.  _Let him play his hand first, wait for him to slip up..._  It was a standard move from him, and it had worked in his favour in court when he felt backed into a corner and out of options. Though, much as he hated to admit it, he felt like he already knew that von Karma was right, that the trial had already  _been_  won, that all they were doing was playing out formalities and waiting for the inevitable. 

But he couldn't give up. There was too much at stake: there was Edgeworth. Phoenix hated himself for thinking that he probably would have waved the white flag had it been anyone else, and he hated himself more for resenting the fact that Edgeworth had become involved in this mess. There was no way he'd back down. 

But von Karma knew he'd won, and echoed the thoughts in the back of Phoenix's mind. "All we're doing now is playing with words, Wright," he said. "In two days' time, this will be over, and you will have lost-- either with  _some_ degree of dignity-- or your life-- and any career aspirations you may have had-- will be in pieces."

 _Fuck you_ , Phoenix thought angrily.  _You know you've won, but you don't have to rub it in like this_. He thought bitterly of Edgeworth.  _And Miles idolised this prick_.

"I respect you, Wright," he said, his voice softening uncharacteristically.

And it was then when Phoenix had a surprising glimmer of hope.  _No you don't,_  he found himself thinking,  _You've contradicted yourself, von Karma. At the start of this trial you said I was a_ bug _and now something's compelling you try and bargain with me._

But... what? Sleep deprived and exhausted, he could come up with nothing. The warmth of the car's interior wasn't helping, either, nor was the soft purr of the engine which, in any other circumstances, would have lulled him into sleep. But von Karma was here and he couldn't let his guard down. 

"What do you want?" he asked stiffly.

The car came to an abrupt halt. 

"Where are we?" asked Phoenix. His gaze had been firmly fixed on the black glass in front of him, all part of an effort to appear unaffected by von Karma's actions. Looking at him was giving in to him. Looking out the window would have been cowardly. Looking around at various things would have looked nervous and flighty. And Phoenix was determined-- whatever von Karma tried-- he wasn't going to crack. It was about  _dignity_. 

It was only then that his line of vision shifted slightly and he realised that the windows were tinted, and that he had absolutely no idea where they'd arrived. A surge of ill-ease ran through his body: just  _what_  was von Karma doing? He regretted allowing himself into the car; this case was just getting creepier and more dangerous by the moment. And this time, he'd thrown himself into the danger needlessly. He'd be at least halfway home now, if he'd just continued walking. 

"I thought you'd recognise the scenery," von Karma said coolly. He looked at the darkened windows and a quiet, nasty laugh escaped him. "Maybe not," he added. 

 _So I guess you're not just going to tell me_  Phoenix thought angrily,  _That would be too easy. Wouldn't want to make you think you were bending to my will... you'd have probably told me where we were if I hadn't asked..._

"We're on the other side of Gourd Lake," von Karma said. "I know this has been your haunting ground for the past few days, Wright; I supposed you'd be more comfortable in familiar surroundings."

 _He's going to kill me_  Phoenix thought with a twinge of nausea.  _He really is insane, and he's going to kill me, and he's going to leave my body in the lake, and he's probably insane enough to believe that Gourdy will eat my remains and destroy the evidence of his wrongdoing._

He felt frozen to the seat. "Why here?" he asked.

"Haven't you asked enough questions?" von Karma said. The hint of a chuckle remained in his voice, the sneer of a man who knew he had the upper hand.

"I'm not stepping out of the car until you explain what's going on," Phoenix snarled. "I should have never set foot in here in the first place."

von Karma shook his head. "Young, overly-confident, far too inquisitive... and stupid." In a mock display of affection, he shuffled closer to Phoenix and put a hand over his shoulder. "I would prefer to not have to hurt you again," he said. "I do regard myself as a gentleman."

Unable to help it, Phoenix snorted. The  _nerve_  of him: so far von Karma had blocked him every step of the way in court, turned on the man he was meant to be mentoring, he'd most likely been concealing evidence, and he'd  _electrocuted_  his competition, not to mention Maya, who was no threat to him whatsoever.

"Do you find that amusing?" von Karma asked. He didn't sound amused; he sounded cruel and calculating. 

Phoenix did not honour his words with a response. "I'm not getting out of here," he said. "Until you tell me what you want."

"No one makes me tell them  _anything_ ," von Karma stated coldly. 

  
He should have known what was coming. He should have remained cool, logical, detached-- aware of the potential danger facing him now,  _particularly_  after what had happened that afternoon in the records room.

But the second time he was touched with the taser was just as surprising as the first. 

He felt the sting-crack-sizzle of electricity, and that less than a second of lightheaded wooziness, before he fell into blackness.

 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

It looked like a hotel room. There was something perfectly sterile and impersonal about it, there were ordinary-looking lamps on the bedside tables, a modern, non-descript painting of what might have been flowers or someone's abstract interpretation of true love was framed and on the wall facing him. The air temparature was warm enough to make him realise that he wasn't at home in his lousy apartment with the temperamental heating and the drafts, and he wasn't... 

_Hey..._

At first he thought it might have been a dream, but the dull pain radiating from his left thigh told him better. Suddenly what had been a nightmare was falling into focus and the memories trickled back to him.

"Again?" he breathed quietly to himself. He was alone in the room, and he looked around in the muted light. Pulling the covers on the bed towards him-- like  _that_  was going to shield him from whatever else von Karma had planned-- he gradually recalled what had happened. 

von Karma. Maybe he knew why, and maybe he'd forgotten, but the surreality and almost senselessness of it threw him. von Karma wouldn't have done this if he didn't see him as some sort of threat, or couldn't get something out of him: but what did he want? And why? He thought of the old man's face: this was a genius, a powerhouse of a prosecutor, a legend who'd had a string of wins and not a single loss in forty years. Why had it come to this?

If he'd been doing this for the past forty odd years, surely someone would know by now, and surely they'd have put a stop to him.

Unless... there was something else in it. The stakes were somehow raised; there was a personal connection-- this case was more than a battle of wits across a court room...

_But... why?_

Still bleary eyed, and only slightly less tired than he'd remembered being when he had left the office, Phoenix heaved himself over to the side of the bed and climbed off. There were logical answers here; maybe von Karma  _was_  scared of losing to him, maybe he was trying to keep him from appearing in court tomorrow morning...? He still couldn't figure it out. 

And then there was that smell-- sort of like old polished leather and the crisp green of new growth after a storm-- Phoenix felt sick when he recognised it from the courtroom, and from the back seat of the car which had presumably delivered him here.

He hadn't noticed the door open, and still in relative confusion and trying to figure it out, he'd managed to miss the figure standing there, its shadow creeping across the floor and the wall behind him like an oil slick. But he looked up when he heard the voice.

"You were told not to get involved with this," von Karma stated. "How are you feeling about it  _now_?"

"Fuck you." The words coming out of Phoenix's mouth were ugly, harsh and juvenile, shocked and scared. Like a dog trying to bite a potential attacker in fear.

von Karma just looked at him and laughed. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. "I didn't know you were _that_ way inclined," he said, his voice not a sneer or a taunt, but amused, lighthearted and disturbingly curious. "Maybe we could have come to an agreement without--" he tapped his coat pocket absently, "my little helper here." 

At those words, Phoenix found himself tensing up again, as though anticipating another jolt from the stun gun. von Karma chuckled to himself softly. "No," he said, "I'm not going to use it unless I have to, Wright-- and what we have to do now is negotiate."

It was strange how almost...  _fair_  von Karma seemed. If this whole mess hadn't involved sneaking around, legendary monsters in local lakes, electrocution and the ridiculously high stakes facing Edgeworth, it could have been as formal and simple-- and everyone could have been as indifferent-- as if they were negotiating a very simple and straightforward property division. 

"Come," von Karma said, "Sit down and talk with me." There was a warmth to his voice which Phoenix had never heard before. He looked around the room blankly-- the only horizontal surface appeared to be the very bed he was sitting on. 

von Karma chuckled again. "How silly of me," he said. "I'm used to having these sorts of discussions in a more professional setting." He walked over to the bed and sat down-- not too close to Phoenix, though still not far away enough for the young attorney.

 _And I suppose paying me a visit in my office wouldn't have been easier?_ he wondered. He didn't say anything, but looked at von Karma blankly, waiting for him to make the first move, to accidentally slip. 

"I suppose you're wondering why here, why now, why the hotel room," von Karma said.

"It does seem somewhat... theatrical," Phoenix admitted, trying to appear tactful. "You could have paid me a visit in the office if you wanted to."

As he said that, the realisation that he was sitting on a queen sized bed suddenly occurred to him. He remembered von Karma's hand on his thigh in the car and...  _no_. He, like just about every other person interested in, or involved with the courts, knew about von Karma, had heard the stories-- but never before had Phoenix heard  _this_  about him. He wished then, that he and Miles had reunited under friendlier circumstances, that they could have talked about things: hell, that Miles wasn't being as obstinate and closed off as he was now. A warning, at least, would have been nice.

von Karma laughed, exuding confidence, like he had a new toy to play with and it was providing him with all too much amusement. "It would have been foolish of me to visit you on your territory," he said. "It would have hindered the two of us coming to an ...arrangement."

Phoenix's mouth opened. He couldn't fault the logic there-- he avoided stepping into enemy territory whilst dealing with a case if at all possible for the same sorts of reasons as von Karma: no one was to be trusted. But the word  _arrangement_  threw him: arrangement suggested something ongoing, and Phoenix wanted nothing more to do with this man. He found himself missing the days when it was him against Edgeworth-- slamming hands on benches, pointing fingers and yelling "Objection!" at him seemed so much more amicable than this. He never wanted to deal with von Karma again once this wretched case was over.

"I don't want an arrangement," he said defiantly. "I want the  _truth_."

"Tsk." von Karma was smirking at him. "The  _truth_ ," he said. "So naive and optimistic..." His voice ground to a swift halt. "I want to  _win_ , Wright," he stated. "And I'm going to. And that's what we're here to talk about."

His confidence irritated Phoenix. Partially because he was so damned  _arrogant_ , but also because there was plenty of truth in there: von Karma did not lose. His proven track record and his celebrity status only seemed to be proof of that, and if angered Phoenix immensely. He found himself thinking desperately, hopefully, that he would do just about anything to-- not _deceitfully_ or _illegally_ win the case-- just to push the wind in his favour. The big problem didn't seem to be the evidence, or Edgeworth-- sure, both of those could have been more helpful and a little less dicey-- the problem was that he faced a man who never lost. He was damned before he'd even started.

"Isn't wanting to win the same thing as not wanting to lose?" Phoenix asked. Playing semantics. He worried that von Karma wouldn't bite, that the man wanted  _perfection_  which meant nothing short of not only winning-- but  _annihilating_  the defense. 

He was surprised when von Karma chuckled again. "An interesting proposal," he said. He sounded entertained, content-- the cat who'd gotten the cream and successfully blamed the dog. 

"Well?" Phoenix asked. 

von Karma shifted towards him on the bed, and Phoenix steeled himself, desperate to not flinch as he drew closer. 

"I do not lose," von Karma said automatically.

"No, but... if you win, you're going to be sending your protege to death, most likely. If you win, you're..." Flustered and annoyed, he snapped. "Has the price of winning ever been this bitter?" he asked. "You're used to winning. What's  _one_  loss? Aren't the stakes here higher than your perfect record this time?"

von Karma didn't flinch. He casually fingered his collar, and it was only then when it occurred to Phoenix: Miles Edgeworth had looked up to this man so much, had been shaped by him so expertly-- that he'd subconsciously adopted his mannerisms. And dress sense. And... everything. Edgeworth had always seemed an original, von Karma had always had presence, yet seeing that one gesture and looking at him now, Phoenix could see the kind of resemblance which had grown between the two of them. Like ivy and a host plant merging into the same thing, yet still retaining their own identities.

von Karma's face was still. "You remind me of someone," he said. "So convinced of the truth, so determined to see it out-- and so aware of external factors which shouldn't really be that important, but  _are_ ," he said.

Phoenix blinked. "I just want the  _truth_ ," he said again.  _And Edgeworth to really really really not be guilty because if that's the truth, then it would..._

von Karma nodded seriously. "Exactly," he said. "...You remind me a great deal of Edgeworth."

His voice was even but there was a coldness to it, as though he was perfectly unimpressed by the idea. But... why? Edgeworth had been his student, his protege, he was brilliant and perfect and cunning and... weren't those qualities Manfred von Karma  _liked_?

 _Funny: I was thinking exactly the same thing about you_ , Phoenix thought. 

" _Gregory_  Edgeworth," von Karma said. There was no mistaking the loathing in his voice as he said the dead man's name. "No appreciation for a world class record."

"Why let the truth get in the way of a good record?" Phoenix asked.

"Are you wanting to be  _silly_ , Mr. Wright, or do you feel like negotiating the circumstances?" von Karma asked. 

 _Plea bargaining_ , Phoenix thought,  _I never wanted to be pushed into this; but... here I am._  

"I'm prepared to negotiate," he said weakly.

"Good," von Karma said smoothly, already knowing he'd won and that Wright was still trying to piece together what was going on-- "Let's work something out that's favourable for the both of us." He shifted even closer towards Phoenix on the bed and smiled. "I'm interested in your proposal about the truth coming out-- and about me not having to lose."

Phoenix nodded. "It's simple," he started, willing his voice to not falter. It felt like his first trial all over again; the nerves, the desperation to not stammer and appear incompetent or stupid. "All you have to do is..."

"And I'm interested," said von Karma in a low, deep, close to demonic voice, cutting him off-- "in what I shall receive in return."

"What do you mean...?" Phoenix's voice trailed off into horrified silence. "I mean, you could not have to do the trial and bring down your own--" What the hell  _was_  Edgeworth to him, anyway-- " _Miles_ \-- and someone else could take your place and..."

von Karma nodded. "I see," he said, considering. "That  _does_  sound like a good idea. A clever, amicable agreement, Mr. Wright." 

And Phoenix felt his cheeks warm, and a sense of hope welling inside him. Maybe his luck had changed, and he was-- he and Edgeworth were-- going to get out of this all right. And then there was the fact that von Karma-- who rarely had a nice word for anyone, it seemed-- was offering such lavish praise. Phoenix found himself wondering what it must have been like to have been Edgeworth, probably hearing plenty of criticism from the man, and yet beaming when praised. Was it like this? Was that why Edgeworth was always so guarded and such a perfectionist? Because his ability to perform perfectly did something to him, brought him a shimmer of approval and unadulterated _joy?_

He studied von Karma carefully. Something about the whole situation felt too easy. Phoenix wasn't sure what the man wanted-- perhaps he'd hit the nail on the head-- maybe von Karma was as uneasy about the trial as much as he was. 

He sighed. 

"A drink, Wright?" von Karma asked.

"I don't drink on work nights," Phoenix said, "Especially not when I'm in court the next day." He wondered if von Karma did. 

"Are you refusing my hospitality?" von Karma asked. "A drink would probably do you some good. Me too." 

Phoenix nodded dumbly. Maybe this  _was_  a kindly gesture, a handshake at the end of papers being signed and a deal being cemented. 

"Okay," Phoenix said with a shrug.

von Karma obviously knew the hotel room better than he did, because he reached underneath the bed and retrieved a bottle of scotch and two hi balls.

"To deals done and cemented," he said with a broad smile as he filled the glasses and passed one to Phoenix. Suddenly the young attorney wondered how the hell he was going to get back home, if he'd be sober by the time he left here, and what sort of state he'd be in the following morning. He watched von Karma carefully, too, just in case anything seemed suspicious in his behaviour. 

But when passed the glass of golden liquid, he managed a smile, as von Karma smiled at him and made a "drink up" motion towards him.

"To the truth," Phoenix said. "And... to Miles."

von Karma flinched slightly, irritation clearly visible on his face. 

"So like Gregory," he murmured. Phoenix felt his cheeks reddening again. It was funny how he could make what should have been a compliment into an insult. "You'd do  _anything_  for the truth to come out, wouldn't you?"

"Yes," said Phoenix earnestly, sipping his drink. It was good scotch, and the smoky rich flavour warmed his mouth. "Of course I would... that's always how I've operated." 

He wondered why this mattered to von Karma, who seemed so vastly different: von Karma wanted to  _win_ , and, well, someone had to be on the losing side when it came to the truth. Both defense and prosecution couldn't be right at once, could they...?

"Just like Gregory," von Karma said again, as though savouring the memories with the taste of the scotch. "Now..." --he rested a hand on Phoenix's leg casually, an easy-going almost fatherly gesture-- "We still haven't discussed how I'm going to benefit from this situation you wish me to go along with, Wright."

Phoenix chuckled nervously. "Look," he said, "I'm pretty much prepared to do whatever you need so that you don't have to go back into that courtroom." He shrugged, taking another sip of the drink, watching von Karma sip his. 

"Get undressed," said the other man in monotone.

Phoenix giggled uncomfortably. "You're joking, right?" he asked. He took another sip of scotch and, upon noticing that the look on von Karma's face was anything  _but_  amused, flinched involuntarily. 

"You want to win this case, don't you?" von Karma asked. "Surely even  _you've_  considered offering some compelling...  _activity_  in order to win a trial."

 

  
Phoenix's eyes widened, and he found himself wondering if von Karma himself had done it before, a little secret sexual bribe performed to smooth down a few edges, make the opposition a bit more agreeable. Maybe he'd taught Edgeworth such a technique, too... and irritatingly, that idea managed to wedge itself in his brain and not got away, particularly when he started wondering why Edgeworth had never offered him such a truce before. 

He said noting, waiting for von Karma to continue and the visions of Edgeworth bringing a witness to his knees-- literally-- to go away.

"Have you forgotten how to remove your own clothing, Mr. Wright?" von Karma asked. He patted one of his pockets-- maybe it held the taser, maybe it didn't, but that was enough of a gesture for Phoenix to loosen his tie furiously and shrug his jacket off.

"It's warm enough for you in here?" von Karma asked. The creepiest thing was that he sounded so concerned. Like he actually  _cared_.

"You don't need to pretend that you're bothered about my comfort levels," Phoenix said. He stared beyond von Karma's face, towards the door. The thought of jumping off the bed and leaving occurred to him, but then so did the thought of von Karma sending Edgeworth to death row just to protect his stupid winning record. 

He had to stay here. He had to do this; Edgeworth's life depended on it.

In the back of his mind, he found himself asking if Edgeworth would do the same for him if the scenario were reversed, and his answer was like a cool empty breeze blowing through a wind tunnel. Edgeworth would probably sneer and make a rude comment about his choice of last meal. 

But _still_ : Edgeworth wasn't making the decision here, and he'd been so damned passive throughout everything that Phoenix longed to ruffle him, to change the flow of the tide pushing him towards a guilty verdict.

"I'd prefer for you to be as comfortable as possible," von Karma said indifferently. It was like he was talking to a prostitute. Phoenix blinked, feeling a strange sense of not really being himself due to the surreality of the whole situation and the fact that he was being spoken to like this by von Karma.

He nodded, and von Karma just looked at him expectantly as though asking him to continue removing clothing.

"I'm... I haven't really done anything like this before," Phoenix admitted.

von Karma's face softened slightly, but it didn't appear that he was going to back out. It was more like he was relishing the fact that Phoenix was new to such a means of negotiation-- clearly the man had power issues, and this was probably just fuelling them.

The idea of getting him aroused through his own discomfort irritated Phoenix, who abruptly stopped unbuttoning his shirt and asked "Have  _you_?"

von Karma chuckled. "Wright, we didn't come here to discuss my behaviour," he said, "We came here-- or, more specifically, I brought you here"--  _he's saying it like he did me a favour_ \-- Phoenix thought bitterly-- "in order to come to an agreement." 

He watched as Phoenix unlaced and wrangled a shoe from his foot. Absently, he reached for his scotch again and took a hurried sip, to von Karma's growing amusement. The innocence wasn't an act. 

"Tell me, Wright-- are you as inexperienced in the bedroom as you are behind the bar?" 

Phoenix froze. Sex was one thing, maybe he could shut that out of his mind afterwards and pretend it never happened-- but the taunting and attempts to humiliate him were different. 

"I thought we weren't here to talk about personal issues," Phoenix said, his voice an almost sneer to disguise his nerves. 

von Karma looked irritated at that. "Again, I was asking because I'd prefer for this to be as comfortable for you as possible." 

 _Like you really give a shit_ , Phoenix thought. But still, he nodded. 

"I've... had my...moments," Phoenix muttered, hoping von Karma didn't see the gulp that followed. "I'm probably not as inexperienced as you'd  _like_." 

von Karma raised an eyebrow, eyes on Phoenix as he removed his other shoe, hands fidgeting around his waistband as he began loosening his belt. 

"Just like Edgeworth," he murmured, though now there was a smile in his eyes. 

Phoenix stopped undressing again, now shoeless and feeling all too naked already-- and took another sip of his drink. "Which one?" he asked defiantly. He wondered if he was going to get any more details about the case, or about either of the Edgeworths' personal proclivities. Then he thought about Miles knowing that he knew-- and felt a twinge of shame. Miles wouldn't want him to know something like that. Miles was so ridiculously guarded and private that he'd be beyond humiliated if Phoenix knew about his sex life.

von Karma seemed to suspect something, and raised an eyebrow. "You appear to have an unhealthy interest in the Edgeworths," he said. "To you, the man should just be a prosecutor, your competition. Getting  _personal feelings_  involved only weakens you, Wright."

 _I know that,_  Phoenix thought to himself.  _If I didn't, I wouldn't still be in here with you, would I?_

"Of course, I told Miles the same thing," von Karma said idly. With one strong flick, he pulled his belt from his pants and dropped it on the floor.

 _Wait:_ Miles _has been thinking about...?_

Suddenly the resolve to keep Miles' privacy private came back to Phoenix. And anyway, it was probably von Karma just toying with him, saying such things. He decided to aim for a diversion.

"You seem to have an unhealthy interest in the defense," Phoenix stated, watching von Karma hesitate over his clothing. Maybe the man was nervous, too, but for entirely different reasons.

"No," von Karma said indifferently. "You're all the same to me. Though sometimes I see someone I feel like I could make a deal with and..." he trailed off. 

"Why me?" Phoenix asked. By now, he was able to look von Karma in the eye, and did, as though searching for something, a flaw in the blueprints, a hidden escape route, something which hadn't been properly sealed... it was a shame von Karma seemed even more guarded and controlled-- and confident-- than Edgeworth. 

"Does it matter?" von Karma asked. "It's not particularly personal."

"I thought you liked women," Phoenix stated simply. 

"Again-- does it matter?" asked von Karma. "I don't see why you feel the need to concern yourself with such considerations. After all, you don't hear  _me_  asking  _you_ about these things, do I?"

Phoenix nodded. At least von Karma  _didn't_  care, he supposed. Poking around in his psyche and playing with whatever responses he got could be even more humiliating than this was. It was good that it wasn't personal...

 _...wasn't personal..._  Did this mean that  _whichever_  attorney defending Edgeworth would have been brought to the same situation-- male, female, spikey-haired, curly-haired, straight, gay... that it truly didn't matter?

 _If that's the case, why is he going to all this effort?_  It seemed particularly odd and undignified for von Karma to go to do all this, to trouble himself with potential scandal and corruption charges. Why here and now? If he was risking this much, clearly he had more to lose by not doing anything...

 _It's not personal with_ me _,_  Phoenix realised,  _But this case is_ very _personal to him._  

 

  
He'd realised the evidence was connecting slowly, and yet still, some pieces hadn't fallen in together. Would he get the answers this evening? He wasn't sure, and he drained his glass and looked at von Karma steadily, almost challenging the other man. 

"I asked you to undress," von Karma said, sounding almost amused. "And then there was that idle chit-chat and you ceased to do so." He smirked. "Would you prefer me to assist you, Mr. Wright?" 

Phoenix shook his head and quickly removed his shirt, throwing it to the floor near his tie and jacket. 

"That's a bit better," von Karma said. "I'll refill that glass of yours should you continue with no more verbal direction, too." 

Phoenix nodded, sullen and unhappy, yet determined to remain defiant in the face of adversity and the Demon Prosecutor.  _Another drink would probably be a good idea_ , he thought as he pulled his undershirt over his head,  _I'm not contesting him on that_.

He shuffled out of his pants, cautiously unzipping the fly and wriggling out of them as von Karma poured another two glasses of scotch. Now sitting on the bed in nothing but a pair of old boxers, he wriggled against the covers on the bed. He didn't like feeling so exposed-- he didn't like the brightness of the hotel room lighting, either, and the fact that von Karma was still fully dressed made him feel even worse. 

So Phoenix fixed his gaze upon the amber liquid waiting for him hungrily; it served as a distraction, and possibly a means of forgetting all this. 

von Karma held the glass up and smiled, eyes taking in the near-naked man lying in front of him. Like a kid at the gates of an amusement park, unable to work out where he was going to head first... the sheer thought made Phoenix feel ill. He'd heard about girls who'd put themselves through law school by prostituting on the side... was  _this_  what it felt like? 

A quick glance at von Karma's face, and he'd dropped the thought. This was creepy. It was like the old man was getting off on the power more than anything else. Once again, Phoenix found himself wondering if Miles had ever been subjected to similar indignities, and he mentally pleaded that he was just being pessimistic. 

He reached out for the glass, only to receive a coy smile and a finger wagged at him from von Karma. "What did I just say?" he asked. 

Phoenix slumped against the bed, trying to work out how to get completely naked whilst maintaining some level of dignity in this too-well lit room. But von Karma had a change of heart. His smile widened, and he brought the glass of scotch closer to Phoenix. 

"On second thoughts," he said, "Leave it."

Phoenix reached over to the bedside table for the glass, his comfort in this situation-- and hastily took a sip, grateful that von Karma was allowing him a little bit of slack.

As he returned the glass to the night stand, his hand knocked the touch lamp, switching it off and casting a darkness around that side of the room. It was ambiance which Phoenix felt grateful for, and he shifted on the bed again, partially shrouded in shadow.

"I realise you're not used to this," von Karma said. "Perhaps I shouldn't be so harsh." There was a soft murmur of appreciation from him, one which Phoenix didn't quite catch the meaning of.

"Would you prefer the other light to be off, too?" 

There was a surprise. A perfect accident had actually worked in his favour. Phoenix nodded dumbly, reaching for the glass on the table, fingers instinctively finding the smooth warm glass. He took a final sip-- more like a  _gulp_ \-- and replaced it as the room was filled with darkness and he could feel the weight on the bed shift as von Karma moved closer to him. 

"Thankyou," Phoenix muttered. He hadn't closed his eyes; there was no point. Instead, he blinked in the darkness and hoped that this went quickly, that von Karma was a lot less worldly than he's assumed-- or at the very least-- that he knew what he was doing.

All that was shattered, though, at his next statement.

"No," he said. "Thank _you_."

In the darkness, Phoenix blinked, but it didn't matter. von Karma made his move then, and he could feel a finger tracing the wrinkles and elasticised top of his boxers. 

"Yeah?" Phoenix asked. He wasn't sure what he was meant to do now, if his hands should go anywhere, or if much movement on his part would just anger or irritate von Karma. 

He wasn't sure if wanted to irritate or anger the man.

"I've always enjoyed a bit of a struggle," von Karma said, his voice like a hidden trap concealed in the darkness.

He did seem, however, for all his swaggering and confidence, seemed somewhat hesitant. Once again, Phoenix found himself trying to figure out why-- drawing blanks, he lay in he darkness and waited.

There was a rustle and the bed moved slightly as von Karma moved closer to him, gently spooning up beside him. Maybe these were the actions of a man starved for intimacy, Phoenix wondered,  _Maybe he's just got this monstrous, overly-domineering persona that..._

And then he felt the hardness pressing against him in von Karma's pocket.   
He startled automatically, and tried to wriggle away, as one of von Karma's arms embraced him in the darkness, the other toying with his hair. 

 _God... the taser_.

Not wanting to draw attention to it, he shifted, moving an arm against von Karma's chest in an attempt to get the older man to shed his jacket. Not that he thought von Karma would be wanting to use the taser again, but the thought vaguely occurred to him-- he was in darkness, and von Karma was still unpredictable-- that was one of his brilliances as a prosecutor.

For someone who "liked a struggle," there was surprising reverence in von Karma's touch. He caressed Phoenix gently, kisses were planted softly down the back of his neck, and the movement against his skin almost protective.

 _The irony_ , Phoenix thought,  _Is that you're the biggest threat to me right now_.

He wasn't sure how he felt about what was happening: on one hand his head felt blank and detached, he'd pushed past the fear and revulsion of being used in such a manner and had gone to another place. On a more visceral level, his body wasn't objecting; in the darkness, the tickle of von Karma's cravat and the stiffness of his suit, and his large hands and warm breath could have belonged to someone else. 

He murmured quietly as one hand stroked over his chest, casually brushing a nipple as it past. von Karma's kisses and the whispered nothings which Phoenix couldn't make out stopped abruptly, and he froze.

"You  _like this_ ," von Karma said incredulously. There was amusement in his voice once again, as though shocked by some sort of connection. "Edgeworth had such... proclivities... too."

Suddenly his touch was less gentle. A hand rushed to the front of Phoenix's boxers and roughly tugged them down, a hand brushed over his semi-hard cock as if searching for evidence. Phoenix said nothing, breathing heavily, wanting whatever happened to happen quickly. Languid from the scotch, his body wracked with tiredness-- yet still uncertain enough to maintain some semblance of being awake, he kicked his shorts off and shifted around so he was at least somewhat covered by the bed sheets. No reason putting up a fight. von Karma, after all, liked a struggle.

"Eager, aren't you?" von Karma's voice was smooth and careful.

"Eager to get this over with as quickly as possible," Phoenix mumbled. He felt the irritation of von Karma's fingers toying with his hair. 

"We could make it quick," von Karma said, hand trailling down Phoenix's naked back, exploring his pale body with broad swooping strokes, "Though I suppose you would find that a great deal more painful." There was a dark sneer in his voice. 

"Then again," he murmured, his neck craning around so that his breath and words were directly in Phoenix's face-- "You do strike me as a man who  _enjoys_  suffering." He sounded thoughtful, and one hand moved forwards to assess his still-semi-hard cock. "I can't think of any other reason you're fighting so hard against me in court, and you're so desperate for me to walk away."

Phoenix was finding it harder to concentrate. The horrible blunt feeling in his brain wasn't removing him from the situation, rather, it was making it harder to sift through the details, and there was something fishy in von Karma's comment just then, though he couldn't work out what it was. 

"Because there's more to me in this trial than my own personal feelings," Phoenix said defiantly. "I can't ignore truth... or justice... or... friendship."

von Karma chuckled, and lifted a hand up to cup Phoenix's chin. "You sound so... earnest," he said with a smile. And his other hand ran down the younger attorney's side, fingernails ever-so-slightly scratching, as Phoenix felt von Karma's lips on his. 

He was an aggressive kisser, harsh and jagged and careless: it was as though he saw the act of kissing as taking something, probing into the other man's mouth with his tongue, close to attacking him. 

"Get off me!" That was enough for Phoenix, who wrenched himself out of the older man's clutch. Just how far was he prepared to go to get von Karma to drop the trial? Something in the kiss-- kissing like that was  _personal_ \-- it was not an explicitly sexual act; it wasn't necessarily about release as other things von Karma might have wanted were-- repulsed him. Once again Phoenix had the miserable thought that this was all a sick power game for von Karma, and not really about physical wants or needs. 

And something about that was sickeningly messed up.

He pushed himself across the bed, unsure what to do. Half-terrified that he might somehow ruin his chance to get von Karma to drop the trial, yet not wanting this to continue, partially tangled in bedsheets, he froze, uncertain. He wanted to run. But to do so would be allowing this corrupt, evil man to win. It would send Miles to death row. He just...

He was winded as von Karma pounced on top of him. "Fine," the other man said with gritted teeth. "We do things your way."

Phoenix felt a small swelling of pride that he'd managed to annoy him, to throw him off balance, to change his plans and kill the mood.

Until he felt a familiar sting in the back of his thigh, the hot, jittery twinge of the stun gun-- possibly not as well-charged and potent as it had been before, but nonetheless painful all the same. He cried out in pain, collapsing on the bed, defeated. His leg ached with a dull weight, and von Karma was softly chuckling to himself. 

"Quite the amusement you are, Wright," he said. "You probably could have gotten yourself into a far more lucrative career than law." He spoke in a low, ominous undertone. He leaned over the attorney, holding him down against the mattress with his knees. 

"We're going to do things  _my_  way now, by the way."

 _Isn't that what we've been doing since I was stupid enough to step into your car_? Phoenix gritted his teeth, wishing he could will the pain; the singed, involuntary static in his leg to stop, a determined silence across his face. He wasn't going to struggle, he wasn't going to plead with von Karma-- he was putting up the quietest and toughest fight he ever had. 

von Karma was an animal. And he knew he was going to get away with this. With his golden reputation and friends in high places, even if the thought of mentioning this evening's events to anyone  _didn't_  fill Phoenix with a sick, shamed sense of horror, he knew von Karma would come up smooth and sparkling anyway. Phoenix wondered again if the man had done anything like this before, and his thoughts were abruptly broken as he felt something cool and slippery glide over his entrance. He gasped, flinching: the vague hope that maybe von Karma was quite conservative and unworldly was shattered, too; there was an efficiency in his movement which seemed all too... competent.

Phoenix mumbled. Half annoyance and protest, half something else, and there was, of course, the silent prayer for von Karma to just get it over with racing through his brain.

von Karma possibly wanted the same thing, though for completely different reasons. There was a moan from him, full of want and expectation, and breathing which only grew heavier as he worked a fingertip in to resisting muscles.

"You need to relax, Wright," von Karma said. The statement could have been borne from a place of concern, but for the fact that it seemed uttered in deadpan monotone. von Karma didn't give a shit: von Karma was most likely trying to avoid complaints and criminal charges down the line. 

 _After all,_  Phoenix thought bitterly as he felt the finger move deeper into him,  _Technically I'm not saying no here... this is some sort of consensual..._

He sighed quietly, and felt a coldness against von Karma's hand. Squirming at the unexpected amount of lubricant on him, and what it represented, von Karma caught him with the other arm and held him against the bed, pinning him down like a dying butterfly.

His breathing was short and jagged and he felt frantic, unsure what to do or where to go from here; he was on a conveyor belt and just moving towards the end of the line; there was no getting off or diversion in the process most likely; he felt von Karma's finger pushing into him, a sharp pain of what might have been a fingernail scraping against him, then von Karma pulling back before moving in deeper, the older man's breathing speeding up rapidly.

 _Knowing my luck, he'll have a heart attack or something, and then I'll be up against-- I dunno, why not Miles Edgeworth-- on murder charges-- for his death_ , Phoenix thought bitterly. 

There was an abrupt halt as von Karma seemed to wince and shift his position around.

"What?" Phoenix asked, desperate to keep his voice even and unaffected, knowing that he wasn't managing to very well.

"Just my shoulder," von Karma muttered. "Now... let us return to what we were doing."

He moved a second finger against the first, pulling back and probing softly.

"Do you know what I'm doing?" von Karma mumbled somewhere near the back of Phoenix's head.

 _Don't people generally talk_ after _the big event?_  Phoenix thought sarcastically, tempted to reply with something perfectly surreal and biting and unrelated. But he didn't, mumbling an incoherent "Uhn" in the darkness, leaving von Karma to add some meaning to it.

"I'm... trying... to make this as comfortable... and... pleasurable... for you as possible." As he spoke, his fingers moved back and forth, each thrust inwards going a little bit further. Was it von Karma's attempt to distract him?

"You're... so..." von Karma started to say, but he was gradually losing coherency and Phoenix's heart was beating rapidly, his body twitching undeneath the other man, yet another traitor in this whole mess as it gave off the kind of shudder usually associated with pleasure.

"So... _what_?" Phoenix asked. 

"So...  _unconditioned_ ," von Karma murmured breathlessly.

 _Great,_  Phoenix thought with disgust,  _I was right: this_ is _some kind of sick power trip for him_. He lay there, still, willing himself to not cooperate, wanting it to be over as soon as possible. But he wasn't going to plead and beg with von Karma-- that would only be falling to him, bending to his will. He despised that this had turned into another battle when he'd merely hoped for an agreement, just wished von Karma would decide to be absent from court the next day. He knew he could take on anyone else, but von Karma's sick obsession with maintaining his winning streak wasn't going to die. This was probably cheating, technically, but there wasn't anything else he could do. 

He was pitted against the devil himself, a man who wouldn't play fair if the odds were stacked against him.

It was only fair that he got to adopt the same attitude.

He gritted his teeth as he felt von Karma pull out of him and then thrust back in, deeper and faster this time, causing an involuntary moan that he wished he could have stifled. There was no way out of this. Even if he didn't feel such a sick sense of revulsion-- at having landed in this position, at having been so determined to negotiate with von Karma-- at Edgeworth for winding up in this mess-- and at his own body for shuddering lightly as von Karma thrust into him once more-- even if he'd wished to say anything to anyone afterwards-- he knew that no one would believe him. It was almost laughable that a man with a record as flawless as his would resort to such behaviour-- an upstanding member of society like von Karma-- whereas he was a clumsy, rookie attorney who managed to strike it lucky more often than not.

 _Except now_ , he thought bitterly. He thought to court tomorrow morning, where he'd face Winston Payne, who'd merely shriek with indignant rage at having his witnesses annoyed, who the judge would all but ignore in the face of logic and hard evidence... 

"I think you know what's going to come next, Wright," von Karma mumbled in a breathy staggered kind of way, "And..."

...Edgeworth being found not guilty. That was what it was all about, wasn't it...?

  
"No!" Phoenix wrenched back against the intrusion. For some reason verbalising it like this made him feel trapped, controlled, shut into a corner-- and he despised it. 

"No?" asked von Karma. He made no attempt to hold him down as he shuffled uncomfortably across the bed. "I thought you came to negotiate, Wright."

"I...  _did_ ," Phoenix mumbled... "just not... this..."

And that was when he felt himself pushed down into the mattress, von Karma's weight holding him there, breathless and terrified, his legs feeling too heavy to move.

"Know, Wright," he replied, in an insane, excited rasp, "That I don't take no for an answer." 

And then everything went black for a split second; it wasn't the breath being knocked out of him or the pain of the next sharp intrusion which wasn't nearly as calculated and gentle as the previous time, it wasn't the pent up rage and horror and disbelief as he felt von Karma pulling him upwards, thrusting into him deeper, hitting some treacherous nerve which made him scream a lie of ecstacy-- it was the fact that he had to get through this, Phoenix thought: this was a battle, there was court tomorrow, and he was damned if he was going to lose after this. 

With a deep breath and another barely controlled moan--  _Damn you, von Karma_ \-- he gritted his teeth again, steeling himself.  _Damn you, von Karma_...

von Karma seemed to be in his element. His soft, gentle mannerisms were a faded nightmare to Phoenix, who wasn't sure whether he preferred this to the supposed concern being lavished on him earlier. There was an honesty in the brutality, and he felt like it was probably drawing to a close now. 

von Karma's rapid breathing and movement seemed unnatural for someone of his age. His strength and force seemed  _wrong_ \-- had Phoenix not seen him in court that day, he wouldn't have believed someone who appeared so...  _upstanding_  and gentlemanly was capable of this.

He winced with every thrust, his skin flushed and sweaty, longing to throw the prosecutor off and just  _run_. Court tomorrow seemed so far away, tiredness, disgust and pain plagued him now, and von Karma's gruff moans of "That's it, that's it..." made him feel sick to his stomach. Then there were the murmurs that could have been "Edgeworth..." if you listened carefully enough, which Phoenix was trying not to do-- instead he concentrated on the details; the way that even in the pitch blackness of the hotel room, shadows danced with their movements, the stinging wetness on his face--  _When did I start_ crying _?--_ and the weight pressing down on top of him.

  
He felt von Karma shift slightly, and tried to wrench himself from underneath him, watching the shadows, head spinning--  _I'm not here, this isn't happening, this isn't me..._  and then there was a low moan, louder and stronger from von Karma-- and the nasty bite-and-hiss of electricity on the back of his thigh again, seizing him up, tensing everything for a split second, and then causing him to collapse like a rag doll.

 _Again..._  

But he'd felt the shudder through von Karma, the thick wetness flooding into him, and suddenly he was still and just sore and there was no motion. von Karma had an arm wrapped around his neck, and kissed him aggressively-- if only there was a word for the action of kissing which didn't suggest love and intimacy and tenderness-- all of which couldn't have been further from the attorney's mind at the moment.

  
He lay there, still, in the darkness, as von Karma rolled off him, leaving him on the bed, used and disposable, as though he might as well have been dead.  _Part of me is_ , Phoenix thought bitterly. The thoughts had stopped: he wondered vaguely if his mind had shut down and stopped working because if it was trying to work right now, it would have imploded upon itself. Instead, he paid attention to the little details; the sound of von Karma quietly readjusting his clothing, the darkness which felt safer, for some reason, than if the lights were on and von Karma could see his face; the way the mattress now felt a lot heavier than it had before.

Then came the warm glow of light. von Karma had switched the light on, and had poured himself another drink, walking across the room to stand by the door, as though observing the broken man on the bed in front of him. His handiwork.

Phoenix didn't want to face him. He wondered if he could pretend he was dead; that would be the only way anyone was going to get von Karma-- _if the bastard killed someone_ ; he thought abstractly-- but then again, he'd probably have a way of getting out of _that_ , too.

"Well," von Karma said coldly. He sipped his drink. "Was it good for you, too?"

 

 

Phoenix said nothing. He remained still on the mattress, willing this to all be a nightmare, to wake up in his own cold bed in his crummy apartment with the malfunctioning heating and the cracks in the walls and...

It wasn't going to go away. Everything hurt, physically-- it was like he'd been thrown from a cliff and battered about by sharp rocks as he fell; his legs felt tight and unmovable and sore-- yet when he heard the low chuckle from von Karma and the question-- like it was all some sort of joke-- he turned his head to face him. Maybe his expression spoke for itself, but von Karma smiled.

"Now," he said, "Negotiation." 

Phoenix opened and then shut his mouth again, the only movement he felt he could manage. 

"You wished to negotiate, Wright." von Karma chuckled again. "Or are you too tired to talk?" He smirked, in a completely calm and amused manner; "You're quite energetic when you want to be."

"Fuck. You." If von Karma was closer, he'd have probably tried spitting on him. This is what he'd reduced to-- and he despised that, too-- that someone could essentially change his behaviour so quickly, and for no good reason. 

 

A nasty glimmer appeared in the prosecutor's eyes then. "No," he said slowly. "I think it was the other way around." He chuckled again, and walked over towards the bed, standing over Phoenix, and gently stroking the back of his head. "For someone who didn't know what they were doing, you were rather enjoyable," he said. "It's a bit of a shame that I can't say the same about your performances in court."

Phoenix pulled himself up then, his knees drawn up towards his chest, a flimsy cream bed sheet serving as protection from the prosecutor's cruel gaze. "It's a good thing you won't have to see me in court again," he said bluntly. He felt cold-- physically and emotionally--  _Is this how it feels when you go into shock?--_  but still, a driving part if him refused to allow the prosecutor the last word.

"Whatever do you mean?" von Karma asked. Cool, calm, even, master of denial; as though nothing had happened only moments ago. 

"I... I mean... the... negotiation..." Phoenix trailled off. He was too sore and exhausted for an argument, and once again von Karma was pushing for one. 

"Negotiation?"

"That I'd..."  _That I'd_ what _? It wasn't like I did anything..._  Unable to put into words what had just happened, he let his words hang there for a moment as though making a point. "And you would be prepared to...?"

"What, Wright?" von Karma sounded warm and confident once more, the last man on earth anyone would suspect went around electrocuting people and taking them to hotel rooms and...

He cracked his knuckles.

"That you would not turn up tomorrow," Phoenix said slowly. "That way I could win the trial, get Miles a Not Guilty verdict, and you wouldn't ruin your forty-year winning streak..."

von Karma laughed then, a great billowing echo of a laugh.

Like the devil himself.

 

  
"I assumed that after this much to drink on a work night and then the  _resulting activities_ , you wouldn't  _want_  to go to court tomorrow," von Karma said coolly. 

"I never agreed to... Phoenix's face was red with fury and humiliation-- and worse yet, the horrible sting of an unfair defeat. 

"Neither did _I_ ," von Karma said. He cast a pitying look at Phoenix then, a look which made the young attorney's sense of nausea increase. "And you do  _not_  look like you're in the sort of state to be in court tomorrow presenting evidence," he continued. "Look at you..." 

_Look at yourself, von Karma. I didn't wind up looking and feeling like I'd been run over by a train without your help._

He found himself wondering then-- how did Miles Edgeworth feel when he realised that his old mentor was going to be prosecuting him? Hurt? Betrayed? Furious? Humiliated? Defeated before anything had even begun?

But he now wasn't just fighting for Miles any more: there was more to this. This case had become even more personal, the stakes were higher, and there was absolutely no way in hell he could walk off now...

 

  
Phoenix cast him a dark glare, and then a sudden realisation hit him.  _So he wanted_ me _to pull out of the trial. First he tried electrocuting Maya and I in the records room, and now_ this _... he's scared of me. I'm getting close to this..._

Phoenix wanted to smile. Amongst the horror there was a glimmer of hope, something not visible to the naked eye-- or to von Karma. 

"I'll see you in court then," he said. "Tomorrow morning."

von Karma chuckled. "Fighting to the death, are we, Wright?" he asked.

"Not  _mine_ ," Phoenix said, a clearly audible note of sheer, unadulterated hatred in his voice. "And _not_ Edgeworth's."

"Have it your way then," von Karma said, walking towards the door. "And when your record is tarnished and your...  _associate_  is on death row-- please don't come crying back to me." 

He shot a final glare at Phoenix, and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him. 

The young attorney watched him leave, hatred glistening in his eyes, and a new resolve to best the other man... for so many reasons now.

 _See you tomorrow, von Karma_ , he thought.

 


End file.
